


Remember This

by plumeria47



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Mpreg, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeria47/pseuds/plumeria47
Summary: In the Wizarding World, male pregnancy is rare and dangerous. So when Harry falls pregnant after a one night stand that he can't remember, he goes to see a specialist in the field (after a referral from a Healer). The specialist is Draco Malfoy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 harrydracompreg fest on LJ. I don't even *like* mpreg that much, and yet I participated in this fest for quite a number of years. Heh, go figure.
> 
>  **This fic sort of contains dub-con.** Or rather, there's consensual drunken sex, and then Draco _Obliviates_ Harry so Harry no longer remembers. It happens right off the bat, and only once, but if this is going to be an issue for you, feel free to skip.

_Yesterday’s just a memory, tomorrow is never what it’s supposed to be._ \- Bob Dylan

[June, 2009]

With a final thrust and a groan, Draco came. For all his fantasizing, the reality of coming deep inside Potter was better than he’d ever imagined. Every fibre of his being seemed focused on the intensity of that moment: the way his balls clenched, the way it felt to be encased in Potter’s tight warmth, the pleasure spiraling through him. 

When he finally came down from the high, he withdrew from between Potter’s thighs and used his hands and mouth to swiftly bring Potter off, too. It didn’t take long, given the urgency with which they had coupled in the first place. The sight of Potter spread before him, back arching with pleasure, responding to his touch, gasping as he climaxed, was the most erotic thing Draco had ever seen – and this was already their second round. Sated and sleepy, Draco exchanged a few more languid kisses with Potter before curling his body around Potter’s lean lines and closing his eyes.

When he woke, it was still dark out. A quick glance at the clock on Potter’s nightstand confirmed he had only slept for a few hours, although his bladder remained convinced it was morning. _Too much Spella Artois._ After hauling himself out of the warm bed, Draco stumbled off to find the loo. 

_Ow._ Draco flicked off the bathroom light as quickly as he’d turned it on. He’d had it on long enough to see where the toilet was – he’d navigate it in the dark. The longer he was up, the more his head pounded, and he knew he was well on his way to a hangover of dragon-size proportions. That would teach him to challenge Potter to a drinking contest, especially as it had only resulted in getting both of them extremely randy. 

Back in the bedroom, Draco resisted the urge to crawl back under the covers, sitting, instead, on the foot of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, groaning faintly. What were the odds, really, that he and Potter would end up in the same pub at the same time? Under normal circumstances he would have bitten off his tongue rather than admit to the obsession that had only intensified, rather than eased, since their days of glaring at each other across the Great Hall. 

But the alcohol seemed to have worked as well as any love potion and, before he’d known it, their mutual goading had turned to flirtation, then kissing, then pushing Potter up against a wall in the tiny alley outside the pub, feeling Potter’s erection pressing into his hip even as his own prick ached for a hand, a mouth, _anything_. And then, with a murmur about privacy, Potter had apparently decided to do side-along Apparition, taking them both back to his flat where the clothing had promptly come off. 

And now, here they were, verging on what could only be a disastrous “morning after” moment. Draco could not imagine this ending with anything other than shouting. Potter would probably claim Draco took advantage of him, and there would be publicity, likely affecting his job as well. But even more, Draco did not want to see those green eyes glaring at him in anger, not after last night’s amazing experience. So Potter had testified on his and his mother’s behalf after the war; it hardly meant he felt any friendship – much less anything beyond that – for Draco. There was just too much animosity in their boyhood days. No – it could never work out between them, not in the light of day. Better for him to leave now, and have Potter think it had never happened. 

Draco retrieved his clothing in silence and put it on before pulling out his wand. Regretfully he pointed it at the sleeping Potter and whispered, “ _Obliviate._ ”

%%%%

[September, 2009]

“All right, Mrs. Murdoch. Everything looks good with the babies for now, so just keep taking those potions and I’ll see you and the triplets next month.”

“Thank you, Healer Malfoy.” Walking rather precariously due to her girth, Mrs. Murdoch left the examining room. Draco followed her out the door, pocketing his wand and handing her chart to the mediwitch who served as his assistant before heading to the staff room. It had been a long day and he was in dire need of a cup of tea before his next patient.

Stirring a spoonful of sugar into the steaming cup a few minutes later reminded him that he needed to swing by the apothecary to get more potion ingredients. He was running low on Contra-Contraction and Blood Strengthener, both of which he used on a regular basis as a specialist for high-risk pregnancies. Contra-Contraction, in particular, required an irritating fifteen days to brew properly, so he really needed to get a cauldronful started soon. 

Although Draco loved potion-making, it always made him a little sad. Potions reminded him of the late Professor Snape. Snape reminded him of Death Eaters and the two years Draco had spent in their midst – not counting all the years beforehand of seeing his father’s active participation and all the terrible, terrifying things that had happened along the way.

Not exactly the way most obstetric wizards got started, he mused – being asked to kill the headmaster and then witness the deaths of dozens of others at close range, all in the name of the Dark Lord. But it was just those early experiences that had prompted him to find a different way to eat – to _cheat_ – death. Not by seeking immortality, or by killing off innocent people (because, as he’d finally admitted to himself, Granger’s worst crime had simply been to be annoying as hell – not anything worth being killed over) but by finding a way to bring more magic-born babies into the population. If he was going wage war on a witch’s Muggle-born existence – something completely out of her control – he might as well wage war on the gods, a battle he surely would not win. Meanwhile, his own mother had lost not one, but two babies to pregnancy complications, potential witches or wizards that never had a chance. If the wizarding population was ever going to truly flourish, there had to be more magical folk, period. 

Professor Snape had already discussed the possibility of a medical career with him during fifth year, when Umbridge had been Headmistress. Truly skilled potions masters were relatively rare, he’d said, and always highly valued, particularly for healing. Despite Draco’s failure to impress Professor Slughorn in sixth year, he had redoubled his efforts and received an O for his Potions N.E.W.T. after belatedly completing his final year at Hogwarts. Ten years – and a lot of work and research – later and he was already partner at the medical clinic attached to St Mungo’s, one of a handful of high-risk obstetric healers in Britain.

“Got an interesting case coming in at four o’clock.” His supervisor, Healer Fitzpatrick, poked his head into the staff room, interrupting Draco’s reverie. “Going to hand this one over to you – you’ve outdone me in this area.”

“Oh?” He cleaned his now-empty teacup with a wave of his wand and then rose to put it away. “What’s the history?”

“Male pregnancy, roughly two or three months gone. Healer Roberts sent him over to us. Haven’t had one of those in ages, have we?”

“No, we haven’t.” Male pregnancies were not only rare, they were among the riskiest medical cases, period – risky for both father _and_ child. They were also the cases that had brought Draco the most satisfaction, and the area in which he had begun to be known amongst the healing community. “Four o’clock, you said?” He looked at his watch. Five minutes to four. “Bugger it all – you didn’t give me much warning!”

“Sorry,” said Fitzpatrick, not looking sorry at all. “Scheduling staff only just squeezed him in. Seems he’s having some significant problems already.”

“I’m not surprised.” Was there ever a male pregnancy that _did_ go smoothly? Draco doubted it. Well, the fight was on – as long as it wasn’t too late, he’d make sure this family had as much chance as any triply-fertile Weasley. He went to check on his other potions and mentally reviewed the spells he would likely need for this initial appointment.

“Your patient is here,” said one of the mediwitches, popping her head in a few moments later. She gave Draco a wink. “Think you’ll like this one.” Draco mentally rolled his eyes. Miss Hughes was always trying to fix him up with somebody. The fact that he was gay didn’t seem to deter her, nor did the fact that his heretofore unseen patient was almost guaranteed to be already in a relationship.

Outside the examining room door, Draco paused a moment to scoop up the parchment chart and review his patient’s case. Twenty-nine years old – same as he was, Draco noted absently – experiencing severe pain, irregular foetal heartbeat and a rash of other symptoms, all indicative of serious problems. Time to get to work.

“Good afternoon, I’m–” Draco stopped dead. Sitting in his examining room, hands clenched tightly in his lap, was Harry Potter. Frantically, Draco looked back down at the parchment in his hands. The top had curled over the name, enough that he hadn’t noticed it, nor had he honestly bothered to look. All that had mattered twenty seconds ago were the facts of the case, not the name behind them. 

Now, however, it mattered. It mattered a _lot_. 

Even though he’d known his time with Potter would be just a one-off and that he’d lost any real chance years ago, it still somehow distressed him to think of Potter with another man. Maybe he could pawn Potter off to Fitzwilliam after all, for the sake of professional distance.

“Er … hi.” It was Potter who spoke first. “They told me you were the expert to see, so…” He spread his hands. “Here I am.”

“Right.” Draco tried to re-gather his professionalism. “So, you’re…” He glanced back down at the parchment more for something to do than to re-acquaint himself with the pertinent information. “… already several months into the pregnancy?”

Potter nodded. “I didn’t even know it was possible until it happened.”

“It isn’t common– ” Draco began, but Potter cut him off.

“Yes, I know that – or rather, I do _now_.” Potter made a face. “I seem to have a life full of odd rarities, starting when I was a baby and now...” He curved one hand over his belly. “….a baby is involved again.”

“Which is where I come in.” Draco pulled a quill from his pocket and took a deep breath. “So, tell me about the pregnancy so far.”

“I’ve known for only a few weeks. At first, I thought it was just the flu or something. I was tired at work, more than usual, food tasted off, and my gut was achy. When it didn’t go away, I finally went to see someone, and, well….” He trailed off, looking a little sheepish. “I think I was more shocked by the news than when Hagrid told me I was a wizard.” 

Draco nodded. “And how are you feeling now?”

“Not good,” Potter admitted. “A few days ago I started experiencing severe pain – not just where the baby is, but everywhere. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work, couldn’t function. And when my healer checked on the baby a couple of hours ago, he said the heartbeat wasn’t very strong, and I just–” Potter stopped to take a shaky breath. “Sorry. I just … kind of got attached to the idea of a baby, despite my initial shock.” He looked at Draco, green eyes wide and pleading. “Can you help me?”

That appeal hit Draco like a punch in the gut. He had to. No matter what his own feelings were, he had to take this case.

“There’s never any promises,” he cautioned, “but I’ll do what I can.”

Potter let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

Draco chewed on his lip for a moment. He knew what he normally asked next, but he hated to hear the answer. “I need you to give me the other father’s information, and he’ll need to come in for some testing as well.”

For some reason, Potter looked inexplicably nervous. “He will? Why?”

“Because of the unusual genetics and other factors involved in male pregnancy, there is often more difficulty getting the two fathers’ blood types and other traits to cooperate with each other inside the baby. Because you and the baby are sharing your body, these problems can begin to infiltrate your system as well. These tests will show if you need to receive certain spells or potions to calm things down. Small amounts of the other father’s blood are often used to make the treatments stronger.”

“And … er … if you don’t have that information?”

Draco was getting impatient. “This is no time to be squeamish about your damn privacy, Potter. I don’t care if you shagged Flitwick – this may be a matter of life and death. Including _yours_ ,” he added.

Silence rang in the examining room while Draco stared furiously at Potter. Who was it? Weasley? Just because Weasley had married Granger didn’t mean there wasn’t something else going on. The two of them always did seem excessively close. And fuck it if he was going to feel jealous of Weasley.

Finally Potter broke eye contact, staring down into his lap. “Malfoy, I can’t tell you because I don’t know who it is.”

“What?” A cold feeling of dread was stealing over Draco. Potter didn’t know who…? Oh, fuck – how long ago had it been since they’d…?

“I … I woke up one morning feeling sore … um … _there_.” Even with his head bowed, Draco could see the flush creeping up Potter’s neck. “But I was alone and … and I have no memory of what happened that night. I know that sounds … bad … but, honestly, it’s never happened before.”

“And there hasn’t been anyone else?” Draco thought he might be sick, but he _had_ to know.

Potter raised his head. “Nobody,” he said, almost defiantly, but then he flushed again. “It’s not like I’ve taken a vow of celibacy or anything but … no, there hasn’t been anyone else since – or for a while beforehand, either.” He shrugged, trying to appear offhand. “Most people are only interested in my famous name, and I don’t want that. I’d rather be alone.”

Draco swallowed. _It’s me,_ he thought, but he couldn’t make himself confess. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever, not if he didn’t have to. “All right,” he said slowly, trying to force his brain to work. “Well, for now, we’ll try some other things.” 

“Such as?”

Draco pulled out his wand and forced himself to approach. “Lie back and let me examine you.”

%%%%

It was only after his last patient had left and Draco had finally been able to Apparate home that he released the flood of confused emotions he’d been bottling up for the past several hours.

Pacing madly around his flat, he let everything come flooding back. The conversation, the knowledge that he was the other father of Potter’s child. Having to touch Potter, run his hands over the small mound of belly that was already starting to peek out, all the while sternly telling his cock to stay quiet. He’d tried not to look at the beguiling trail of dark hair disappearing into Potter’s trousers, knowing damn well what lay beneath. Tried not to remember what they’d been doing the last time he’d touched Potter so intimately. Tried not to think about the way Potter’s breath had hitched a little as Draco had touched him today, much the way it had on that June night. Tried not to think about the way their fingers had brushed as he’d handed Potter an initial batch of potion to take home. 

Tried not to think about the fact that he was going to be a father.

 _Fuck._ This was so messed up.

He braced his hands on the kitchen table and forced himself to calm down. This wasn’t helping anyone. The only way he would truly be able to help would be to see that Potter and the baby made it safely through until early spring. And what he needed, right now, was to get the test results he’d spoken to Potter about. If Potter didn’t need Draco’s blood in the Sanguinity Solution, maybe he could get away without admitting his involvement in the whole mess. 

But that would mean never being involved in his child’s life. _His child._ He still couldn’t process it. What sort of father would he be, if given the chance? Was it better to keep quiet and let things proceed without interference, or better to speak up and force Potter to interact with him on a personal level for the next seventeen years?

Draco sighed. Well, first things first. He dug into the pocket of his robes and retrieved the small vial of elixir he’d brought home, the one he used to determine prenatal blood and magical compatibility. He set it on the table, pulled out his wand and hitched up his sleeve, but then closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the spell he needed to do; he’d done it plenty of times before – just not on _himself_. 

After a moment, he cast the silent incantation and then, with a precise slash of his wand, he opened a small cut on his arm. It was nothing like the injuries Potter had inadvertently caused him so long ago, but it still stung. Ignoring the pain, he allowed four drops of blood to fall into the little vial, then twirled his wand over the mixture, murmuring, “ _Consociabilis_ ”. In moments, he had his answer.

Potter needed the potion with Draco’s blood. And, given that the elixir had not only turned blue, but almost _navy_ , Potter needed it immediately.

%%%%

The next afternoon, Potter was back in his office. Draco was thankful he’d responded to the owl message so quickly – he hadn’t even waited for the office to open that morning, instead sending off his own eagle owl the previous night – but he was also terrified. He’d barely slept that night, struggling to think of a way he was going to explain the situation, knowing that it was likely to result in the very confrontation he had hoped to avoid three months ago.

Potter, at least, looked marginally better than he had the previous evening. “There’s definitely less pain – I was able sleep better last night,” he said, in response to Draco’s query about the potion. 

“That’s good,” Draco said, distractedly. _At least somebody got some sleep._ He set aside Potter’s chart and took a deep breath. “I went ahead and ran that test for you last night.”

Potter looked suddenly anxious. “And?”

“And … you need the other father’s blood. The Sanguinity Solution will give you and the baby the greatest chances for survival.”

Potter closed his eyes for a moment as he absorbed the news. “Shit,” he murmured. Then he looked again at Draco. “So the potion I’m taking now won’t be enough?”

“It will help,” Draco said cautiously, “but not as much as anyone would like. There will still be the risk of serious complications, many of which can mean death for you or the baby.” His fists clenched as he tried to work up his courage, the look of panic and devastation on Potter’s face forcing him to go on. “But I can get you the Sanguinity Solution you need.”

“What?” Potter stared at him, confusion replacing the panic. “How?”

Another deep breath. “It’s me.”

Potter frowned. “ _What’s_ you?”

Draco willed himself to look Potter right in the eye. “The other father. It’s … me.”

 _“What?”_ Potter jumped down from the examination table, eyes wide. “That’s … that’s impossible!”

“It’s not,” Draco replied steadily. “We met at The Silver Snidget on June sixteenth purely by accident and ended up trying to drink each other under the table. But we didn’t just get drunk.” Potter said nothing, just staring at him, so Draco forced himself to keep talking. “I kissed you, then one thing led to another. You took me back to your flat and we … you know,” he finished, feeling his cheeks burn again.

Potter’s expression hardened. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”

“I _Obliviated_ you.” Draco swallowed. “I assumed that night had just been the alcohol talking, and that you’d be ready to hex me come morning. It seemed better to pretend it had never happened, so I did the spell and left before you woke up.” 

_Pow!_

Draco rocked back on his heels, his jaw throbbing. Blinking back the tunnel vision that had threatened his ability to stay upright, he steadied himself and gingerly felt his jaw with one hand. Didn’t seem broken, but that was probably just luck.

“How _dare_ you!” Potter said as he massaged his knuckles, his voice full of icy venom. “How dare you decide for me what I do and don’t want.”

“Look, I’m sorry!” Draco snapped. “I just assumed– ”

“I _know_ you _assumed_. That’s the problem!” 

Draco forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, all right?” he said, struggling to bring the volume down. “I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you, but … after all our history, I figured you would hate me the next day, and … I … didn’t think I could deal with that.”

“Did _you_ want to forget about that night, like you made me do?”

“I – no.” The admission was out of his mouth before he could stop it. _In for a knut…._ “No, I didn’t,” he added quietly. “And I didn’t want the memory spoiled by a morning-after row, which is why I … did what I did.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “So we could have a three-months-after row, instead?” 

Draco scowled. “What more do you want from me? I _said_ I was sorry.”

“Yes, _that_ , at least, I remember.”

He bit back the retort that threatened to bubble up. Old habits died hard, but this was getting them nowhere. “Look, can I at least give you the potion, since you’re here?” 

That seemed to cut through Potter’s anger. “Right,” he said, after blowing out a long exhalation. His hand curled over the small curve of his abdomen as he spoke. “Anything to help my baby live.”

“ _Our_ baby.”

Harry just glared at him.

Draco sighed. “I’ll be right back with it,” he promised. He went to his storeroom to get the potion he’d prepared that morning. Thankfully, he’d had plenty of the Sanguinity Solution base on hand; all it needed was a drop of blood from a father – usually the _only_ father – and a spell to activate it.

“Here,” he said, coming back into the examining room and handing Potter the bottle. “Take a gobletful once in the morning and once in the evening for the next two weeks. After that you can cut back to a single daily dose, which you will take for the rest of the pregnancy. Come back for more when you run out.” 

“All right,” Potter said. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “And … thank you.”

Draco frowned slightly. “What for?”

Potter raised the bottle slightly. “For this.”

“That _is_ my job, you know.”

“No,” said Potter, his black hair falling messily into his eyes as he shook his head. “I’m thanking you for being honest and saving our lives. You could’ve kept quiet and held back the potion, you know.”

Draco’s stomach twisted. For all his agonizing at home, now that Potter was here in front of him, the first hint of their – _their!_ – baby now visible beneath his jumper, Draco couldn’t imagine withholding the medicine that would hopefully keep them both alive. Yes, saving lives was what he did now, but _this_ was personal. “No, I couldn’t have,” he said quietly. 

Potter bit his lower lip, as if considering something. “When do you finish tonight?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Six o’clock. Why?”

“You want to meet me at The Silver Snidget for dinner? So we can talk about … about what happens next? With us and … _our_ … baby?”

Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then Draco nodded. “All right. But no drinking challenges this time.” 

“Of course not – I’m pregnant,” Potter said with a snort. He headed for the door. “See you there.”

%%%%

“You seem to be eating all right,” Draco observed, watching Potter continue to make inroads on his cottage pie.

“So far,” Potter said, pausing momentarily before taking another bite. “Some things don’t taste right anymore, but I haven’t been sick or anything.”

Draco cut into his fish. “That probably won’t last,” he cautioned.

Potter grimaced. “Great,” he sighed, glancing down at his plate. “So you’re saying I’d better eat while I can?”

“Well, I can give you additional potions at that point. You’ll keep your food down, but you still might not feel very good.”

“Lovely.” Another sigh. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.” Potter looked back up. “Look, your concern is very touching, but can we talk about what happens once the baby arrives?”

Draco put down his fork, his appetite suddenly gone. “What do you want to happen?”

“Well, for starters, do you want to be part of the baby’s life?”

Draco stared. He’d been certain that Potter would want nothing to do with him now, given his reaction earlier. “Will you let me?”

Harry paused, as if pondering his answer. “I would never prevent it,” he finally said. “Unless you’re planning to teach him Dark Arts.” Green eyes bore into Draco. “Are you?”

Draco shook his head. “I’m done with that. It’s why I chose this job, to find a better way to ‘eat death’.”

Some tension seemed to leave Potter’s shoulders. “It’s just … I never knew my parents. I realised I didn’t want my own child to experience that lack, either. So – if you want to be actively part of his life, then that’s all right with me.”

Hope blazed in Draco, bright and warm like the sun, but he tried to control it. “You’re sure?” he asked. He didn’t want to allow himself to bond, emotionally, with the child, only to have Harry change his mind.

“Yes,” Harry said, nodding his head for additional confirmation. “I want this baby to have every chance to know both his parents.”

“You seem to think it’s a boy,” Draco said.

Potter’s brow furrowed briefly. “What?”

“You keep describing the baby as ‘he’.”

“Oh.” His face smoothed out again. “Yeah, I guess I do. Think it’s a boy, that is. I really have no idea, though – is that something you can find out?”

Draco shook his head again. “No. Or, if so, I haven’t heard of that spell or potion yet.”

“Muggles can do it, you know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to go to a _Muggle_ doctor.” The very idea that Muggles could do _anything_ better was too horrific to contemplate.

Potter snorted. “Male pregnancy doesn’t occur in the Muggle world, as far as I know. I don’t think they’d have any idea what to do with me.”

“Good. You’re staying with me, then,” Draco stated firmly. 

Potter raised an eyebrow and Draco felt himself flush a little. “I didn’t mean it _that_ way,” he said. He picked up his fork again, casting around for a topic to take the focus off himself. “So, how’d Weasley and Granger take the news?”

“Ron doesn’t know yet.”

“Really?” It was Draco’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I thought you three told each other _everything_.”

“Well, Hermione knows,” Potter said, sounding a bit defensive. “Actually, she’s the one who made me see a healer in the first place. She threatened to research my symptoms nonstop until she figured out my illness herself, so I decided I’d better go.”

Draco snorted. “Good thing, too.”

“Of course,” Potter went on, “she demanded to know what the healer had said, so I told her. But she’s keeping it quiet for now.”

“Why?”

“Well, at the time, I didn’t know how it had happened, and I was soon in so much pain that I thought maybe either I would die, or the baby would, in which case there wouldn’t have been any point in mentioning anything to anyone. But,” he added, looking down at his stomach, “now that you’re helping me, I guess I’ll have to say something soon.”

“So, you’re saying that I should I get ready for the mob with pitchforks and hexes to come after me.”

“Well, I am still pretty hacked off at you for taking away my memories.”

“Yeah,” said Draco. “I got that.”

“But,” Potter added, his mouth curving in a wry smile, “since the baby and I need your potions, I suppose I’ll let you live.”

Draco raised his glass in a silent toast. “I’ll take what I can get.”

%%%%

“You want to come in for a drink?”

“Sure.”

Harry unlocked his flat and stepped back to usher Draco in. He unfastened his cloak and hung it on the pegs to his left while Harry went into the kitchen to pour the wine he knew Draco preferred.

It had been a little over a month since he had first learned he and Harry were going to become fathers. Since then they’d gone from sharing awkwardly polite – but safe – conversations to more earnest talk about the people they’d become. They’d even finally begun addressing each other by first names. Draco was surprised to find that he now considered The Man Who Lived a friend, a connection far beyond his physical attraction to Harry. What could they have had if they hadn’t been on opposite sides for so long, he wondered – not for the first time – as he settled himself on the couch.

Harry returned from the kitchen with a goblet of red wine for Draco and a cup of tea for himself. Draco smelled peppermint wafting up from the cup as Harry sat next to him on the couch.

“Stomach still bothering you?”

“As ever.” Harry sighed and then took a sip. “At least your potions are working as promised,” he added.

“They usually do. I’m good at my job,” Draco pointed out. “Although I must admit that this time I’ve got a rather personal interest in the outcome of a case.”

“Good thing, given you’re the reason I need the potions in the first place.” Harry bit his lip a moment, then sighed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Draco shrugged. “You’ve made it pretty clear I deserved it. All I can do is try to do right by you – and whoever you’ve got in there – in the future.”

There was a pause, in which Harry seemed lost in thought. Draco sipped his wine, trying to calm his defensive response. They were both trying hard for the sake of the baby, he knew, and while they were definitely friends now, it didn’t mean all the old reactions had instantly disappeared. 

Finally Harry blew out a long sigh. “Did you ever think that maybe I wanted what happened?” he said at last. 

“I–” Draco stared. “You did?” 

“Yes, I did,” Harry said settling back against the cushions. “Yes. You probably won’t believe me, but I did. Want it, I mean. I wanted _you_.” 

He paused, eyes focused somewhere over Draco’s shoulder, as if considering his next words. “I think … all that obsession I used to do about you at school, all the ways I would follow you on this special map I had, all the times I noticed where you sat and what you were doing … it was attraction. I just couldn’t let myself realize it at the time. I was attracted to you _and_ I hated you, all at once. It was … confusing.” His eyes flicked back to Draco, and he shrugged slightly. “Once the war was over and things were so different for everyone, that’s when I started admitting what I really felt, but we were pretty well finished with school by then and went our separate ways. So if we accidentally met up, as you say, then … I guess I saw my one chance to act on it.”

It took a moment for Draco to find his voice. Was it possible? Harry’s admission was a near twin of his own feelings. “But … I kissed you first,” he said.

Harry shrugged again. “I guess you have a little Gryffindor in you after all,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Draco made a face. “Just what I always wanted.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the Hat felt I had some Slytherin in me.”

“Seriously?” Draco wondered how many more surprises Harry planned to throw at him tonight.

“Seriously. It put me in Gryffindor because I was too afraid of Slytherin to accept being one,” Harry said quietly. “I didn’t know then that there were Slytherins that I would later be glad to call friend.” He gazed at Draco with those intense green eyes of his, and Draco felt his cheeks warm.

“So …” Draco said, trying to get back to the topic that seemed most important at the moment, “… it wasn’t just a drunken one night stand for you?”

“Oh, well, I suspect we were drunk,” Harry said with a wry smile. “But that probably just gave me enough courage to take what I’d wanted for so long. So, no,” he added, shaking his head a little, “I probably wouldn’t have thought of it as just a one-off. Unless _you_ did? You said before that you didn’t want to forget about that night, like you made me do. Was that really true?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t _ever_ want to forget it.” It was Draco’s turn to shake his head, although in his case he felt like he was trying to shake loose months, _years_ , of misconceptions. “I wish I’d known you felt the same way I did,” he murmured. “I wish I could go back in time and tell myself not to _Obliviate_ you; maybe we could have had something.”

Harry’s mouth twisted a little. “Messing with time is a funny thing,” he said. “I don’t recommend it, except in emergencies.”

“Still,” Draco persisted, “don’t you wonder what might have happened if you’d spoken up or I hadn’t done the spell?”

“Of course,” Harry said, simply. “But I’ve lived with a lot of ‘What ifs’ in my life, and I finally realised they never made me any happier.” He paused a moment, considering. “There’s something you could do, though,” he finally said, his voice soft.

“What’s that?”

Harry leaned forward and set his empty teacup on the coffee table before responding. “You could kiss me and give me new memories,” he said, reaching out to brush his fingers along Draco’s jaw.

Draco drew a shuddering breath. Harry’s fingers, so light, so gentle, had sent immediate shockwaves of desire coursing through his body. He turned his head toward them, capturing one slim finger in his mouth, letting his tongue curl around its length, flutter across the pad and had the satisfaction of seeing Harry give a little gasp of pleasure in response. 

The finger withdrew, slowly, seductively, as Harry’s other hand captured one of Draco’s, turning it palm up; Harry pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Draco’s wrist, and _fuck_ , but that felt good.

He didn’t remember setting down his wine but he must have, because the next thing he knew, he had both hands tangled in Harry’s messy black hair and was kissing him with a hunger that surprised even himself. Harry moaned against his mouth, the sound going straight to Draco’s groin. This was better, so much better than he remembered it being four months ago, although whether it was because he was mostly sober this time, or because he knew without a doubt that Harry was _completely_ sober and a fully conscious, willing participant, he couldn’t have said. All he knew was that he wanted Harry. _Now._

Harry clearly was having similar thoughts because in the next moment Draco found himself being pressed backwards onto the couch cushions. Harry slid up Draco’s body so they could continue to kiss, and Draco felt the hard length of Harry’s cock thrusting deliciously close to his own. But he was also aware of something else - the protruding curve of Harry’s belly as it rested against Draco’s abdomen. 

Draco began working the buttons on Harry’s shirt. “Sit up a moment,” he whispered, fumbling a little in his eagerness.

“You could use your wand, you know,” Harry murmured, laughter in his voice as he straddled Draco’s hips and pushed himself to a more upright position.

“I intend to,” Draco growled, deliberately misinterpreting the remark as he thrust his hips up toward Harry’s. The last button finally done, he pushed the fabric off Harry’s shoulders, exposing his firm, pale torso and the noticeable bump just below it. The sight made him pause; he held out both hands, palms hovering over the protruding curve, then looked up and held Harry’s gaze, a silent question on his lips.

Harry nodded, once, taking one of his own warm hands to guide Draco’s to his belly. Draco thrilled at the sensation, the sense of life just below the skin. How many hundreds, thousands of times had he done this professionally? But none of it compared to the knowledge that it was his own child growing, hidden, under his touch. He let go a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Harry whispered, smiling in return. 

Draco nodded, unable to find actual words.

“You know what else is brilliant?”

Draco’s attention was brought back to Harry. “What is?”

“Having you here, beneath me.” To punctuate his comment, Harry bent forward, propping his weight on one arm, until his lips met Draco’s again. The kiss was long and slow this time, less hurried, as if Harry was ready and willing to take all night to explore. Although there was less urgency, Draco’s reactions weren’t any less intense, and soon he found himself panting, his back arching in need as Harry slowly unbuttoned Draco’s shirt, kissing his way down the exposed skin, coming closer and closer to Draco’s impatient cock.

“ _Unnnnhh,_ ” he moaned, as Harry ghosted hot breath over the straining tip. Distantly, Draco was aware that his trousers and pants seemed to have vanished, and glanced up just in time to see Harry casually vanish his own remaining garments before carelessly tossing his wand to the carpet. Then there was no room for any coherent thought as Harry’s mouth slid down him in earnest, his tongue curling around the sensitive underside of his cock. The wet heat, and _oh, fuck,_ the suction, were almost more than Draco could bear. His hands clenched convulsively on the upholstery fabric, needing to hang on to something, anything, lest he explode right then and there.

Long moments passed, during which every fibre of Draco’s being focused on the delicious things Harry was doing with his mouth: licking, sucking, swirling up and down Draco’s length. His breathing grew increasingly ragged as his need built up, the sensations becoming almost unbearably intense. He was close, so close, and suddenly he felt his body reach its peak. 

“Harry!” he gasped, the only warning he could give, but Harry only pulled Draco further into his mouth, his hands holding Draco’s hips firmly in place as his climax overtook him. 

Harry swallowed, then released Draco as he came back down to earth. He slid his body back up so he could kiss Draco again. Draco could taste the salt and bitterness on Harry’s tongue, and wondered what Harry’s come would taste like. He also could feel the curve of the baby pressing into his pelvis at this angle, but it seemed to add to the experience, rather than detract from it. The memory of what they had done that night four months ago made him grin, and it was only the fact that he had only just come that kept his cock from expressing more determined interest to repeat those events. 

“You’ve had your turn to top,” Harry whispered, as if reading Draco’s thoughts. With one knee he pressed Draco’s thighs apart and murmured a Summoning spell for some lube . “Now it’s my turn.”

“Fuck, yes.”

%%%%

[March, 2010]

“Oh, God, Draco, if you don’t get that potion right now I may have to kill you after all.”

Draco smoothed Harry’s black hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Try to relax, Harry.”

“Right, because AGONIZING PAIN is so relaxing!” Harry snarled at him.

“Relaxing will help it hurt less,” Draco said, trying to stay calm. “I’ve seen it work for countless patients. Besides, I can’t get the potion if you don’t let go of my hand.”

“Fine,” Harry bit out. “But hurry up, or I WILL hex you.”

Draco took advantage of Harry’s momentarily loosened grip to hurry off to the room where he stored his potions. He felt torn in two, if not a hundred pieces. Acting as both Harry’s partner and healer hadn’t been very difficult for the past six months. However, trying to stay professionally calm when it was _his_ baby making its imminent appearance, and someone _he_ had fallen in love with who was going to be cut open – was proving a great deal more challenging. He was doing his best to stay calm for Harry’s sake, but he felt at any moment he might faint or throw up. Or both.

“Draco?”

With shaking fingers, Draco pawed through his supply of concoctions. He knew he’d been keeping some Deliver-ease Draught on hand, with Harry’s time so near, but where the hell was it? 

“ _Draco?_ ” Harry’s voice was getting more urgent.

 _Bugger it all._ Draco pulled out his wand and cast a Summoning spell. The bottle zoomed into his hand from the shelf he’d just been searching. Torn between wanting to kick himself for missing something so obvious and feeling relieved that he had the potion in his hand at last, Draco sprinted back to Harry’s labour room.

“BLOODY HELL, DRACO, NOT KIDDING HERE, IT’S _ALIEN 3_ ALL OVER AGAIN!”

“I’m back, I’m back,” Draco said, breathlessly pushing the door open. “What’s this about aliens?”

Harry propped himself up on one elbow, reaching out with his other hand. “Fuck it – never mind. Give me the potion.”

Draco hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall. _Where was he?_ “I still have to wait until Healer Fitzpatrick arrives to do the actual delivery,” he told Harry.

The look Harry gave him was one of the dirtiest Draco had ever seen – and given their prior history, that was saying a lot. “GIVE ME THE POTION.”

“You know I have to wait until he’s here,” Draco said, willing Harry to understand. He hated to see him in pain, but there were consequences of giving the draught too early. “The potion only lasts a limited time and there are significant risks to giving more than one dose. For safety reasons, I can’t give it to you until he’s here and everything’s all set up.”

“Why can’t _you_ deliver the baby?” Harry was almost pleading now.

 _Merlin. If Fitzwilliam didn’t come soon…._ “Harry, we discussed this countless times already. I can’t deliver my own child – there are rules.”

“Since when have you given a shit about rules?”

“Look,” Draco said, setting the potion on a nearby table and coming to stand next to Harry’s bed again. He brushed Harry’s flushed cheek with the back of one hand, hoping to calm both of them down. “It just makes sense to have someone less emotionally involved open you up.”

“Admit it,” Harry said, glaring at him. Draco’s gesture was clearly not having the calming effect he was hoping for. “This is revenge for the time I accidentally sliced you open.” 

“Are you still going on about that?” Draco sighed. “You _know_ this is the only way to– _Ow,_ let go!”

“Not … until … you … give … me … FUCK, here comes another one!” Harry’s hand tightened its hold as another contraction swept through him.

“C’mon, Harry, breathe through it. That’s right, breathe.” Draco was having a little trouble breathing, himself. “And it would be great if you’d grip my hand, not my balls,” he ground out between gritted teeth.

“Your balls deserve it after what they’ve done,” Harry said tightly. But he switched to clamping Draco’s wrist anyway.

“Little bit late for accusing them – Ah! Healer Fitzpatrick!” Draco felt his chest unclench a little at the sight of his superior. “Just in time.”

Harry seemed similarly relieved. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed.

“We’re all ready to go,” Fitzpatrick said, cheerfully. Draco made a note to never be so irritatingly bouncy to any other expectant parent. He, for one, wouldn’t be ready for cheer until Harry and the baby were both safely through the birth.

 _And speaking of …_ Draco quickly plucked the little bottle off the table. “Okay, Harry, here’s your potion.” He poured out a measured dose and helped Harry sit up enough to take it. 

“Tastes disgusting,” Harry said with a shudder.

“Most potions do,” Draco said, reclaiming the empty cup and planting a kiss on the top of Harry’s head.

Harry was already blinking sleepily. “I really do love you, you prat,” he murmured, a languidly fond expression on his face. “Even your fucking stupid balls.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand as the potion took full effect and Harry slid into unconsciousness. “I love you, too.”

%%%%

“Here he is,” Draco said, placing their newborn son into the crook of Harry’s arms.

“Oh my God,” Harry breathed, staring in fascination into the tiny pink face. “I can’t believe we made him.” He traced a gentle finger along the baby’s downy cheek, watching as the baby automatically turned his head toward the touch.

“I know,” Draco said. He’d had a good several hours to stare rapturously at his son while Harry recovered from the aftereffects of the potion and the birth, but he still felt just as awed as he had at the first moment. 

They both were quiet for few minutes, drinking in the experience. “So,” Harry finally said, his blissful expression shifting to what looked suspiciously like a smirk. “What do I win for being right about the baby’s gender?”

Draco pretended to think a moment. “The right to change his first nappy,” he said. Harry wasn’t the only one who could smirk.

“Thanks, loads.” Harry shifted the baby slightly, enabling him to make a rude gesture in Draco’s direction. 

“You were expecting a sackful of Galleons?” Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I ever contradicted your ‘maternal instinct.’”

“True,” Harry conceded, cuddling their son close again. “But I should still get credit for being right.”

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes a second time. “Fine. I’ll change the first nappy. Happy now?”

“Who wouldn’t be happy to hear that someone else is doing the dirty work?” Harry grinned. “All right, all right,” he added, looking more serious. “How about if I get to choose the name?”

“James?” Draco said, referring to the name Harry had pushed hardest for. He sighed. “Only if he still gets to be a Malfoy.” He loved Harry, but ‘James’ was definitely _not_ his first choice.

But Harry clearly had fewer qualms about the last name than Draco had with the first. “James Malfoy it is, then,” he said, smiling in satisfaction. He stroked a tuft of wild dark hair away from the baby’s face. “Hello, James,” he whispered. The baby made snuffling noises in response.

Draco felt a wry smile stretch across his lips. “Apparently he approves.”

“Draco?” Harry had stopped fawning over the baby and was looking at him, instead.

“Hmmm?”

Harry’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly around the bundle he held, as if afraid James might disappear. “Thanks again for keeping him alive,” he murmured, his green eyes gazing steadily at Draco.

Draco tried to shrug it off. “I kept you alive, too, I might add.”

“Yeah, well, he mattered more,” Harry replied.

“I strongly disagree,” Draco said, coming to sit on the edge of Harry’s bed. He bent to kiss Harry on the lips. “You both mattered to me, and–” he gestured theatrically, “–I’m wounded that you would think otherwise.”

“Shut it,” Harry said, but he was smiling. “I mean it, though. This is the best thing that ever happened to me and I will never stop being grateful for James.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Only for him?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “And for you, too.” Then his expression softened. “We’re a real family now. I want to remember this day for the rest of my life.”

Draco kissed Harry again, then wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders as he gazed down at their tiny son. “Yeah, me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to feed the author! All comments are welcome, including concrit. And thank you for reading.


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